Callie
“There she is,” Lou announces as I walk around him to the lunch counter. Nash is there, wearing jeans and a gray t-shirt, his blue eyes gleaming, a wide grin on his face showcasing those perfect teeth.

Okay, so he’s hot. That explains why I wanted to have lunch with him. I just wanted something nice to look at while I ate. At least that makes sense, but I’m still annoyed at myself for acting this way over some guy.

“How’s your day going?” he asks, turning to me.

“Good. Did you order yet?”

“Yeah. Got the grilled ham and cheese. Got you one too.”

“You ordered for me? Maybe that’s not what I wanted.”

“Well, you could’ve ordered for yourself but you took too damn long. What were you doing back there?” 

“None of your business.” I twirl my straw around the Coke he apparently ordered me. “I did your laundry.”

“Yeah, I just picked it up. You even put everything in the dryer. Thanks for doing that.”

I shrug. “You paid me. I was just doing my job.”

He smiles. “What’s going on with you? You in a bad mood?”

“No. Why would you say that?”

“You actually seemed pleasant when you stopped by my house earlier. Now you’re back to being ornery.”

“I’m not ornery. You’re just overly sensitive.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, that’s me. Mr. Sensitive.” He leans over like he did yesterday, his mouth by my ear. “I don’t mind if you’re ornery. I take it as a challenge to make you be nice to me. So bring it on. It’ll just make me show up at your door even more.”

“I’ll just send you away,” I say, trying to hide the rapid breathing his close proximity is causing.

“You won’t if I make you want me around.”

“Why would I want you around?”

“There are many…many reasons.” His tone is full of sexual innuendo and I’m wondering why he’s doing this. He could’ve made a move on me last night but he didn’t. Not even an attempt to kiss me when we said goodbye at my door. So is he just one of those guys who likes to flirt with girls? Even if it doesn’t go anywhere?

“Name one reason I would want you around.”

He leans back, flashing his smile at me. “I’m nice to look at.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh my God. Seriously?”

He laughs. “You should see your face. That was classic.”

“What else you got?”

“I can make you laugh.”

“No you can’t. I hardly ever laugh.” I used to, but that ended the day they died.

“Last night you laughed for hours. All because of me and my made-up stories about the people in the country music lyrics.” He’s right. I did laugh a lot last night. I didn’t realize that until now. “And as I’ve said before, I can fix shit. That should be reason enough to want me around. But if you need more reasons, I could go on all day.”

I laugh. “You’re so conceited.”

“See? Made you laugh.”

A few minutes later, Lou brings out our sandwiches and says to Nash, “You gonna want dessert?”

“I’ll take a slice of that cherry pie.” He points to it in the glass display. “What do I owe you for it?” He gets out his wallet.

“Forget it. It’s on me.”

“Since when do you give away free desserts?” I ask Lou.

“He deserves something for putting up with you.” He chuckles and walks away.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I call after him but he’s back in the kitchen. “He’s been acting strange,” I say to Nash.

We finish our lunch and Nash takes my plate and sets it on his and moves them off to the side. “So what time should we have dinner tonight?”

“We’re not having dinner tonight.”

“Why not? We both have to eat, so why not eat together?” He grins. “You seemed to enjoy my company last night.”

It’s true, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You have work to do,” I say.

“I still need to take a break for dinner.”

Should I do it? Should I have dinner with him again? I don’t know if I should. The more time we spend together, the more he’ll want to know about me and I don’t want him knowing about me. I’m lost and a mess and I need to spend my time figuring out how to move forward, not hanging out with my neighbor. The problem is, it’s been over a year and I haven’t made much progress in moving forward.

“Okay, but I can’t be out all night,” I say. “We’re just having dinner. That’s it. Let’s eat at six-thirty.”

“Sounds good.” He takes his glass and gets up and goes around the counter to refill it from the dispenser.

“You’re not supposed to be back there.”

“Too late.” He takes my glass. “Want some more?” I nod, and he refills it, then comes back beside me. “So what are you making?”

“What do you mean?”

“For dinner. What are you making?” He’s trying to hide his grin.

“You’re saying I’m supposed to make you dinner?” I gape at him, shocked that he would just assume I’d cook for him.

“It’s your turn. I made dinner last night.”

“You didn’t make dinner. You ordered a pizza.”

“Then I’ll cook for you tomorrow night. There’s a grill in the garage but I have to get some charcoal.”

Lou drops off Nash’s pie, then continues on to deliver pie to a man sitting a few seats down.

“Thanks, Lou,” Nash calls out. Lou nods at him and Nash picks up his fork and digs into the pie.

“I am not making you dinner,” I say.

“It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just throw a frozen meal in the microwave. I’ll need at least two. I eat a lot.” He gets his wallet out and sees it only contains a few dollars. “I forgot to give you the rest of the money I owe you. There’s an ATM on the street. I’ll get it when we’re done.”

“Forget the money.” I turn to him. “If you want a frozen meal, just make it yourself. You have a microwave that works.”

“It’s in the garage. I tore my kitchen up. I can’t use it. And I didn’t say I wanted a frozen meal. I just thought that’d be easier for someone who doesn’t know how to cook.”

“Excuse me, but I know how to cook.”

“So show me.” A sly grin appears. He said that on purpose because he knows I don’t like being told I can’t do something.

“Fine. I’ll make dinner but it’s not going to be anything fancy. Spaghetti and maybe some cheesy bread. That’s it.”

“No meatballs?” He chuckles. “I need meat, Callie.”

I whack his arm. “Spaghetti. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it. But tomorrow we’re having steaks. Big meaty t-bones.”

“I’m not having dinner with you tomorrow. Tonight’s the last night.”

“We’ll see about that.” He takes the last bite of his pie.

“It’s not happening. You have to learn to eat alone.”

“Once you smell those steaks cooking on the grill, you won’t be able to help yourself. You’ll be right over.”

I give up arguing with him. There’s no point. He’s relentless. I just won’t show up tomorrow and then he’ll see that he’s wrong.